Alarmed, Nicole belatedly realized the length of auburn hair held in Julia’s little hand, and now thrust forward at her mother, and then the noticeably bare spot in the side of Julia’s head. Nicole gasped, shock her only reaction, unable to decide if anger or laughter would follow.
Mrs. Whitehead, their nurse, filed into the room, her age and bad knees having precluded a serious chase, no doubt. “Oh, my lady, I didn’t even know the scamp had found my sewing scissors.”
Nicole rolled her lips inward, trying to keep from smiling. She looked at her second oldest, Thomas, who for the life of him could never seem to make any face even remotely resembling contrition. Nicole shook her head.
He shrugged, so much like his father, “Truly, mother, she dared me. Said I wouldn’t do it.”
Nicole counted to ten, considering briefly the others, young Trevor, the oldest, and the grin he tried to hide, his green eyes flashing; Katie—Number Three, her father sometimes called her for fun—was staring at the space in Julia’s head where the hair was now missing, her pretty blue eyes huge and round.
To Thomas, she wondered, “What are we going to tell your father this time?”
“I’d like to know as well,” said a voice from the doorway to the left, where Trevor’s study joined the parlor.
Thomas’s eyes widened. All eyes turned toward their father.
But Trevor’s gaze was on Nicole. And before he’d even considered what circumstance had his children barging into the parlor as they had, he strode to where his wife sat and leaned over her, one hand on the back of her chair, one on her desk.
When his face was only inches from hers, when a blush had come, warming her cheeks, he said in a low voice, “I believe you were the one who wanted children.”
A smile crested, though she aimed for a somber face. “On the contrary, dear sir. I believe that was you.”
Trevor shook his head. “You might recall, I wanted only the making of them.”
The blush darkened. “Yes, just this morning, I was cleverly reminded that you do enjoy the making of them.”
Trevor winked at her. “What have the little beggars gotten into now? Do I need my stern voice?”
“Definitely. Your son has chopped off a fair length of your daughter’s hair.”
Trevor’s eyes widened.
Behind them, Katie inquired, “What are you whispering about? Why is daddy always whispering things to you?”
Raising his voice so that his children could hear, even as he kept his now heated gaze on Nicole, moving from her eyes to her lips and back again, he said, “Your mother and I have many secrets, things too delicate for your unworldly little ears. Best stay back, children. Before I tar and feather that scallywag, Thomas, I need to be kissing this woman.”
“Ew,” groaned young Trevor.
Katie giggled. “Grandmother said you kiss mother entirely too much.”
“She was smiling when she said it, though,” young Trevor modified.
“Yikes,” Nicole whispered. “What else might your mother be saying behind our backs?”
“You can ask her at dinner tonight,” her husband advised, letting her see how his gaze had settled so hungrily upon her lips.
“Mother!” Shrieked Julia, for her parents seeming lack of outrage at her mistreatment.
Trevor kissed his wife. Not entirely chastely, but then not as ardently as she’d have liked, despite present company.
“Now tell me you love me,” he instructed.
“I do, very much,” Nicole obeyed. “And then more so, when you take charge of your children.”
Grinning, Trevor turned and planted a hip on the edge of Nicole’s desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and considered his offspring until his now hard gaze fixed on a suddenly wary Thomas.
The boy, all of eight, already the very image of his father, began to defend himself.
“Father, she said I wouldn’t dare so then—”
Trevor only shook his head, slowly, until the boy quieted.
“You have committed a crime against this gorgeous child,” he said, and Julia rushed forward, crying softly now as the reality—and less so the outrage—began to sink in. She was scooped up into her father’s arms and pressed her chin on his shoulder. “How bad is it?” He whispered to her.
Julia lifted her head, and then her hand, showing the foot long tail of hair squeezed in her fingers.
“Egads. But you know that hair grows back, right, poppet?”
She nodded, but cried still, tucking her face again into his lapel.
To his son, “Of course, this is an affront for which you will pay dearly. You may not ever harm a person, least of all those you love most.”
Thomas scrunched up his face. “I don’t love—”
“You do,” said his mother. “You just don’t know it yet.”
“And when you do injure a person whom you love most dearly,” Trevor continued, “you must repent, and show that person how very sorry you are—not sorry that you have been caught and punished, but sorry for the damage you have done to them. It might well take you weeks, months, or years to earn their trust once more and prove to them you will never do such a disastrous thing again.” He’d enunciated and lengthened these last words. He glanced around Julia in his arms to ask of his wife, “Am I missing anything?”
Nicole smiled at him, seeing very clearly the parallel he drew. She hoped Thomas understood this, as well as his father had.
There had never, not once, been a day that she’d regretted trusting him with her love, putting her heart in his hands once more. But then, he would never have allowed it, having been so determined that she never doubt him again.
“Only the punishment,” she said, and spared a mother’s sorry glance to Thomas, who swallowed hard. Trevor had managed to imbue just the right amount of parental disappointment into his tone, which always had greater effect than any railing and raging might have.
“I cannot give him ten lashes,” Trevor said, pretending to debate this, “he’d never survive it.” Thomas had blanched at this. Trevor continued, “We should not shave off all his own hair, that would only show him that one bad decision begets another—never a good idea.”
“A week of hard labor?” Nicole wondered.
“Hmm,” considered her husband, eyeing his son’s frightful reaction to this. “Might be just the thing. But to start,” he said, and kissed Julia’s tear-stained cheek and set her down, “Trevor and Katie and Julia might enjoy some of Mrs. Teasdale’s tarts in the kitchen with Mrs. Whitehead. Thomas, you will spend considerable time and thought in your room, until I clear some time on my schedule and meet you there.”
The three dashed off, Katie taking Mrs. Whitehead’s hand, turning her around to drag her along to the kitchens. Thomas spared one last glance, a pitiful beseeching glance at his mother, who had all she could do not to open her arms to him, before he slinked out of the room and up the stairs, with only his mother’s mouthed, I love you, to support him.
“You’re very good at that,” Nicole commented as Trevor drew her to her feet.
He kissed her briefly, sliding his arms around her. “I have a few years—ten, at last count—of practice.” His lips met hers again. “And now I’ve managed to disperse the lot of them, I can quietly and stealthily whisk my wife up the stairs and have my way with her, and none would be the wiser.”
“Clear your schedule, hmm?” She would never grow tired of being in his arms, being the recipient of his greedy kiss.
“Clear the room, is what I’ve done,” he teased, nibbling around her ear. And then he stopped, straightening and facing her, his expression serious. “Have I repented, Nicki? Have I shown you, over these years, how much I adore you?”
Nicole nodded, holding his face in her hands. “You have, my love. More than I could have ever hoped for. But pray don’t stop, lest I forget.”
He wrapped her up again, squeezing her tight, burying his head in her neck. “I could no more do that than I could stop
my own breath.”
“Amazing, is it not? I loved you so much back then, I couldn’t imagine it could grow deeper or get better or be something so much larger than it was then.”
“But here we are....”
“Here we are. And I love you, Trevor, still and always, so very much.”
The End
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If I Loved You
She Will Be Loved
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The Touch of Her Hand
The Memory of Her Kiss
The Shadow of Her Smile
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When She Loved Me (Regency Rogues: Redemption Book 1) Page 25
